


"Yes, sir"

by The_Damnedest_Creature



Category: K-pop, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Asphyxiation, Handcuffs, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Top Jungkook, Uniforms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-24
Updated: 2015-06-24
Packaged: 2018-04-05 23:28:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4199106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Damnedest_Creature/pseuds/The_Damnedest_Creature
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jungkook and Hoseok sneak off the set and decide to make use of a couple props. // Police uniform!Jungkook and biker outfit!Hoseok.</p>
            </blockquote>





	"Yes, sir"

**Author's Note:**

> Police uniform!Jungkook and and biker outfit!Hoseok? I hear you.  
> And if you do not like, pretend it’s September 2nd, or move on, there is nothing for you here.  
> Comments always welcome~!<3 Enjoy the fic.

“Why don’t you kneel down, hyung.”   
The maknae’s voice is somewhat menacing. Smooth and steady and cold, he stares Hoseok down intensely, and in spite of the phrasing, his request is actually not a request at all.   
It makes Hoseok shiver; Jungkook is very soft-spoken, his words come out gentle, they always do – but somehow he is able to radiate prominent authority when he wants, with ease. And he wants this time, oh, does he want.

 _Little fiend_.

“Kneel down.” he repeats, and he drops all honorifics at that, his face manifesting a slight frown. Damned be the one that let him don and keep that police uniform; it makes Hoseok’s body tingle in all the strangest ways.

“They’ll notice that we have disappeared if we stay too long, you know that?” Hoseok voices a worry, biting his bottom lip absent-mindedly for just a second.   
The distance between him and Jungkook closes, as the younger covers it in swift stride, counting only a couple steps, to have Hobi within his reach; his black baton hits his hyung in the side. Relatively gently. Only to scold, to get him moving – not to hurt.

“You talk a lot.” Jungkook remarks, and there is the unsaid  _you should shut up_  in it, to which Hoseok eventually obliges, just as he does to the first request, because he is weak, so weak, and he wants Jungkook’s hands in his hair and on his neck and everywhere.   
His padded biker pants are made for it; he takes note of how comfortable it is to kneel in them on the cold concrete floor, as he drops to his knees and looks up at Jungkook.

Weak.   
He is weak, so weak.

“Good boy. Wasn’t hard, was it.” Jungkook whispers, as he pushes his fingers into Hobi’s hair, taking a grip. It’s going to become tousled, and somebody’s got to become angry about having to fix it, but Jungkook really doesn’t care, and Hoseok doesn’t either, not really.   
He closes his eyes when the fingers pull, having him tilt his head back.   
”Not long before they notice, yeah?” the maknae remarks, as he runs a thumb over Hoseok’s bottom lip, pushing against it slightly and sliding just the tip of the digit into his mouth; Hobi’s tongue darts out almost on instinct, touching the soft pad of that finger, licking it just a little.   
Jungkook pushes it in and presses Hoseok’s tongue down.   
”We’d better make it quick, then...”

Hobi is all soft and pliant; he’s given in to Jungkook’s hands.   
When Jungkook grabs him by the back of his neck and bends at waist to pull him into a kiss, he huffs lowly into it, when there is a hand in his undone jacket to push it off his shoulders, he gets the hint and complies and ditches it, reducing his above-waist garments to only a skin-tight white tank top.

He knows he’s not allowed to touch unless given permission, as always, so his hands remain down, a little aimless, gripping at his pants or top to have at least some sort of occupation.

 _The pants are tight_.  _They’ve gotten a little bit tighter at the crotch, certainly._  
He moans when Jungkook grabs him by the throat, when there are messy kisses to his jaw, to his collar bones, he gasps when Jungkook pushes him back roughly, gripping at him as means of maneuvering him, so hard for a moment that it cuts off his oxygen supply – it is in fact still so incredibly hot.   
It’s one of the reasons why Jungkook likes this so much, that Hobi lets him do this, Hobi doesn’t treat him as a child that doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing. Hobi gives in, Hobi becomes a toy under Jungkook’s hands, Hobi follows, Hobi is eager to please. 

Whatever the random pipe on the wall was for, originally, it serves a new purpose now, as Hoseok’s handcuffed to it right after being slammed into a wall. He’s momentarily wondering whose idea was it to give Jungkook actual real handcuffs, while hoping that they also gave him an actual real key to them. Otherwise this will be tremendously problematic to explain.   
His hands are fixed above his head now, and he’s half sitting, half kneeling, somehow leaning against the wall a little, and there is an eager little devil all over him; about equally as eager as he is.   
Jungkook’s legs are spread above Hobi’s, he’s kneeling above him like that, watching him with cold determination and control and hot lust reflected in his dark, sinfully large eyes. 

There comes his baton, again, grazing over Hoseok’s skin.   
It teases his jaw, the tip pressed against his throat under his chin, to lift his head up like that. Then it travels south, down his chest, down his slightly shivering belly, to where his white tank top has run up just a little – Jungkook uses the stick to fix that little problem, pushing the fabric all the way up to Hoseok’s ribcage.   
Bored soon, he throws the tool away.  
Then he slides down and licks a trail up from Hobi’s abdomen to his chest, with a grumbling purr of a big, needy cat.   
And Hoseok digs it, so much, arching and moaning at it.

“Quiet, be good.” Jungkook mumbles with a smack to Hoseok’s side – the door doesn’t have a lock, and if somebody from the set comes looking for them, they sure as hell don’t need Hobi’s audio clues to find them quicker and in the middle of  _business_.   
It’s thrilling, on both sides – for Jungkook, speaking down to his hyung like that; for Hobi, being commanded around by the maknae like that.  
Hoseok bites his lip, stifling any sounds that might be escaping his mouth as Jungkook slides even lower and licks over the front of his pants, following the outline of the very obvious erection that he’s sporting.

The pants come undone in a minute, and are yanked down his thighs, along with his underwear.  
Hobi needs to press his face into his upper arm for a moment, panting against his own skin, because when Jungkook takes him into his mouth with surprising ease, his desperate, throaty moans are a little bit too loud.

“...I’m going to stop if you don’t keep quiet, Hobi.” Jungkook mutters up at him, watching him intensely for a while, with his breath right on the wet skin, with his hand occasionally squeezing Hoseok’s exposed cock.   
And Hobi is panting, with this little high-pitched tint to it, his eyes squeezed shut.   
He nods eventually, taking a few deep breaths.   
He’s not like Jungkook is, he’s bad at keeping quiet.   
Still, he tries.

“Good boy,” Jungkook praises when Hobi’s calmed down. He’s audibly grinning, but that only lasts a moment, because soon enough, the mouth is back to where it was before, and Hoseok is biting his lip raw in order to remain quiet.

The handcuffs rattle against the pipe each time Hobi moves too much, and they cut into his wrists in an uncomfortable, yet immensely hot way. Occasionally he has to open his eyes, all flustered and breathless as he is, to look down at Jungkook, who’ll stare back up at him and grin wickedly, little tease, little devil, master of all Hoseok’s puppet strings.

Hobi arches each time Jungkook flicks his tongue over him in just the right way, each time he sucks his cheeks in with his mouth hot and tight on him, and each time he does that, accidentally thrusting his hips upwards instinctively, he earns himself a smack to the leg, and a hand to his belly to push him down, because Jungkook  _could_ stop and scold him for disobedience, but he enjoys torturing him with a sinful mouth on his cock and the requirement to be quiet. After all, Hobi, the one who couldn’t sing even if his life depended on it, is the one  _so very_  vocal during activities like these.

...Jungkook does stop, eventually. At that point his faint sheen of lip gloss is gone, and Hobi isn’t the only one all hot and bothered, as Jungkook crawls up over him again, to grin against the side of his throat as he kisses it, thoroughly amused by Hobi’s little whines.

”Frustrated?” he purrs, drawing it out. He kisses Hoseok’s ear, nipping at the earlobe; then he bites it roughly.  _No marks_ , he remembers, what if somebody saw, they would be in the video forever and there would be trouble, so much trouble from it. (Still, he could not resist marking the fuck out of Hoseok’s inner thighs earlier – they’re sporting a couple hickeys right now.)

Jungkook straddles Hobi now; still fully dressed, all black and heavy boots he is.  
When he rolls his hips against Hoseok, his clothed erection rubbing against the other’s bare one, he has to stifle a moan from Hobi’s mouth with his own.   
His hand finds Hoseok’s hair again, and he grips it tight and pulls, to the point where it hurts, while he fumbles single-handedly with the front of his pants, undoing the belt and just pulling it out altogether, because it gets in the way and it’s annoying; he hits Hoseok’s bare skin with it once, on the upper thigh, and he grins against his mouth when he yelps. Just for the sake of it. For that flinch, for the red mark.

The belt is tossed away.   
Jungkook opens his pants, and his hand is on his own cock rather quick from there; all that while he continues forcing Hobi’s head back uncomfortably by his hair, kissing him like it’s the end of the world.

He has to move a bit, but eventually he achieves the pose that he’s been striving for. He rolls his hips, again, and as his erection rubs against Hobi’s, still slick with remnants of saliva, he half grumbles, half moans into the other’s mouth, before wrapping his long fingers around both shafts with a sharp intake of breath.  
The sound that Hoseok makes sounds way more like a whimper.

Within half a minute, Jungkook is breathing as heavily as Hoseok, leaning against him almost entirely, front to front, so it’s somewhat hard to fit a hand between them to jerk them both. Hoseok can not help, still effectively immobilized by the pipe and the handcuffs, letting out small, breathy sounds – those are the most that he allows himself out of things that could still be considered quiet in Hoseok’s book of  _fucking loud like an overacting whore_.

...It is endearing to watch Jungkook lose composure. Because at one point his hot as fuck dominant facade crumbles on the surface just slightly, and he gets a little desperate and a little needy, with his forehead rested against the side of Hobi’s neck and his fingers holding on to his hair for dear life, almost.   
Jungkook loves pulling Hoseok’s hair – and Hoseok loves having it pulled, no dispute there, all is well, all is good. 

After a moment, the fingers untangle from the strands, stiff and a little sore from gripping tight enough to pull a few hairs out.   
Hoseok is confused for only a millisecond, because within a breath the previously disconnected hand is on his throat, squeezing it hard.

He knows that Jungkook loves it. The fingers dig into his neck, and it makes him remember all the times when Jungkook would be straddling him in bed, with both hands on his throat, choking him until he’d almost black out – how hard it would get him, how hard it always got him to see Hobi gasp for breath, to see his eyes get a little bit hazy, how he loved to at least keep a hand on his throat while Hobi was sucking his cock, how he loved to push his head into the pillow by the throat as he lay on top of him in bed, jerking them both off, just like now.

Hobi would let him.   
Because if not on the inability to breathe, Hobi got off on the look that it gave Jungkook’s face, on the lustful fire in his eyes. He’d look into them if he could, always, at all times. Stare into them, daring, because it reeled Jungkook on, forcing him to squeeze harder, drawing a moan or two out of him, as he’d push Hobi almost to the point of blacking out. Sometimes, bruises followed. Often. Sometimes not.   
...And today, the collar of Hoseok’s jacket is high, but not _that_  high.

”Marks...” he whispers breathlessly, nudging Jungkook’s cheek with his own a little.  
Kookie does understand, he knows there can not be purple fingerprints on Hobi’s throat this time, and it does bother him a little, just the slightest, faintest bit, but that is life, he can not have everything, too bad.

When he pulls away just enough to gaze in Hoseok’s eyes, it draws a moan out of both of them, in unison almost.

They remain in that position - lips mere inches from each other, eyes half-lidded and hooded with arousal. Hobi’s eyes are full of meek yet determined devotion; Jungkook’s radiate dark, all-consuming fire.

The hand on Hobi’s throat doesn’t go away.   
It’s squeezing just enough to be a prominent presence, to make breathing hard, but not enough to leave traces. It makes Hoseok’s panting a little spastic; yet he persists, he does not avert his gaze from where it is locked with Jungkook’s.

Hoseok comes first.   
With red cheeks and parted lips he tenses, fingernails digging into his palms, as he is unable to grip properly onto anything. His breath hitches in his throat, because at that moment, both of Jungkook’s hands squeeze, hard - the hand on their cocks, and the hand on his throat, and it works wonders to silence him, to reduce his usual moaning and mewling to mere gasps. Gasps and spasms and squirms.

He does not look away.   
He wants to close his eyes, throw his head back, hide that way, but he knows better, he knows what it does to Jungkook, seeing his face during climax.   
He does not look away.   
His mind is part Jungkook’s fiery gaze, part white noise and darkness, but he does not look away, and within moments Jungkook tenses up and frowns and bites his lip as he comes, last minute yanking at Hoseok’s hair instead of digging his fingertips into his throat, because that would just not go without marks this time, so, so sad.

...Then he slumps against Hobi’s shoulder, panting like he’s just run a mile, and he’s shaking so visibly that it makes Hoseok sorry for being unable to take him in his arms.   
What an endearing creature.

For a while they lay slumped there, catching their breath and regaining composure.  
Hobi is first to come by, come down from the post-orgasmic high, and he’s nudging the side of Kookie’s head with his cheek, squirming under him a little.

”...We need to get back...” he mutters gently, probably effectively shattering some of the mood, but it is time to come back to reality and act, they have already been gone for too long, it seems.

Jungkook nods, pushing himself up to sit back on Hobi’s already rather numb legs, pulling a packet of wet wipes out of his pocket, to clean the mess that they’d made off Hobi’s naked belly. He frowns as he tries to see whether he’s messed up the front of his uniform.   
Fortunately he hasn’t really, though he uses the tissue to roughly scrus it anyway, just to be sure.

He fishes out the key to the handcuffs, that he fortunately does indeed have, and unlocks them, freeing Hobi’s wrists and apologetically kissing each one of them.   
”Sorry for that...” he whispers, a little timid even, now that he’s not horny anymore. He kisses Hobi’s palm, and his throat, where he’s been abusing it. He kisses his cheeks then, and his mouth.   
He helps Hobi up, fetches his jacket, and he helps him get dressed, smoothing over his hair and his own as he tries to contribute to getting them back to looking somewhat representative.

Hobi sighs.  
And then laughs.

“We look like we’ve just had sex anyway,” he snorts.   
Jungkook can not really disagree. He laughs now, as well.   
”We did just have sex, though... Maybe they won’t notice?”

...They most likely will – though the staff may be a bit clueless. The members will hopefully be discreet about it, if they do – up till the tease fest in the dorm, later. That is quite possible to live with.

As Jungkook sneaks out of the door first, to return to the set and valiantly deny that he could possibly know where the freaking hell Hobi could have gone to, he turns to Hobi one last time and laughs under his breath.   
”You know,” he starts, back to his usual way of addressing his hyung, “that outfit, you should really wear that stuff more often.”  
Hobi shakes his head with a laugh, and then shoves Jungkook right out of the door.


End file.
